


contents under pressure

by wolf264



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bottom Lena "Tracer" Oxton, Desperation, Embarrassment, F/F, Graffiti Lena "Tracer" Oxton, Omorashi, Pre-Talon Widowmaker | Amélie Lacroix, Semi-Public Sex, Situational Humiliation, Top Widowmaker | Amélie Lacroix, Watersports, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-20
Updated: 2019-05-20
Packaged: 2020-03-06 22:58:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18860680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolf264/pseuds/wolf264
Summary: “Vandalism, is..”Lena sighed shakily, dignity crumbling as the woman in front of her spoke barely above a whisper.“..a criminal offence,”------ or ------Lena gets caught in an humiliating situation.





	contents under pressure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Vandalism, is..” 
> 
> Lena sighed shakily, dignity crumbling as the woman in front of her spoke barely above a whisper. 
> 
> “.. _a criminal offence._ ” 
> 
> \---or---
> 
> Tracer's first taste of public humiliation.

Lena’s spray paint can squealed across the quiet expanse of the building she stood on. A burst of bright yellow paint splattered onto the wall as she added some color to the drab bricks. It wasn’t rare to see the artist painting late at night, her unique tag seen across most of King’s Row. Her barely legible tag was iconic, a signature reading “TRACER”, usually done in neon colors. 

The mural she was creating was just starting to come together, spray paint cans scattered around her feet, and multiple stencils stacked haphazardly by the wall. Lena sighed, shoulders going slack as her hand dropped the can she was holding onto the pavement.

The other hand pulled her mask off of her face, fresh air flooding Lena’s lungs. Picking up the energy drink next to the stencils, she took a few generous mouthfuls before capping the bottle up again. The painted wall reflected the warm lights from the city below, pedestrians’ chattering and cars whirring below faintly whispering in the air. 

As Lena scrutinized her piece from afar, she wondered where some blue or orange should go. Pacing in front of her artwork, a twinge of discomfort making itself known a bit under her stomach. The graffiti artist’s pace slowed, a chill running through her. 

“C’mon, now. It’s too early for this..” Lena mumbled, setting her canteen down by her stencils and starting to spray more paint on the wall. 

Lena decided to ignore the feeling in her abdomen. She filled in a few of the bricks in front of her with a neon blue. Her vision was starting to come alive on her wide, concrete canvas. A plane's wings was taking shape as Lena added more colors, using her paint-splattered stencils to paint 'Slipstream' onto the side of the plane.

She dropped the spray can onto the rooftop, white paint dripping down her fingers. “Of course, these decide to be leaky the day I forget my gloves,” 

She felt her knees snap together, bladder throbbing painfully. The outline Lena was tracing around the plane jerked into a zig-zag of white onto the wall. “Aw, fuck me.” 

In a fruitless attempt to remove the paint, Lena licked her thumb and scrubbed at the misplaced line. A defeated sigh and the tinny ringing of the spray can hitting the cement echoed across the rooftop. She adjusted her leggings, the waistband now pressing into her stomach. The dull ache was beginning to become more pronounced when Lena sat down on an air vent.

Lena pouted, sneaker tapping impatiently as she tried to conjure up something that could fix her mistake. She tried to distract her mind from the swell of her bladder by crossing her legs. Focusing on her mural's garish linework. 'Make a cloud? Put orange over it?' Lena's pout tightened into a scowl as she couldn't figure out anything to fix her mistake. She was becoming so frustrated that she didn't realize she was squirming in her seat.

She picked up the orange spray can next to her, and popped the cap off. The few drops of collected paint dripped down the side of the can, running down her fingers. Bare fingertips drummed against the side of the spray can. Her eyes snapped up, an idea whispering into the back of her mind. "No, no, absolutely not," Lena scolded herself, standing up and crossing her arms.

"What a bloody ridiculous idea, I wouldn’t, ever..." The artist paused, trying to find the right words. "I just wouldn't. Even if I desperately had to." 

Minutes ticked by, Lena picking up different cans, grumbling about color schemes and ideas. Her bladder was starting to feel heavy as she paced in front of the wall, steps becoming smaller and smaller. It wasn't soon until she was tip-toeing back and forth. Her breathing shaky, she took a weary seat on the air vent again. Lena let out a slow breath through her lips, trying to calm the tides that rocked inside of her. 

It had been roughly 30 minutes since Lena denounced her idea to lessen the ache inside of her, and she felt like she was going to burst. The paint on Lena's leggings were starting to flake off from her walking, dusting the pavement where she was pacing in a paint-confetti trail. Lena looked around the rooftop, hands sliding into her lap.

"Lena Oxton, what have you gotten yourself into?" Her sour mood did nothing to cease the throbbing under her stomach, her lip stuck between her teeth. The artist kept scanning the rooftop, eyeing the fire escape's door. "If only the damn thing was unlocked.." 

She went to get up, but immediately fell back into her seat, clutching her sides. "Bad idea, _horrible_ , terrible idea," The artist keeled over, holding onto herself. A shiver ran down her spine, ankles crossing below her. Lena choked back a gasp, feeling herself leak into her underwear. She folded her legs, squeezing as hard as she could. 

'There's no way I'm going to walk home soaked, absolutely no way,' Lena insisted to herself. Her white-knuckled grip onto the edge of the vent helped her adjust her hips where she sat, her hood sliding off of her head. 

Lena's fingers slowly wrenched themselves off of the vent, and went back to holding her crotch. Her cold fingers could be felt over her leggings and her underwear, making her bite back a sob. It was much warmer between her legs than the cool night air, and while she wanted to warm up her hands, she also had a much bigger problem to deal with. 

She swallowed harshly, a deep flush painting over her face. Lena whimpered as she struggled to sit still. The only option she had was to go, here and now. As Lena slowly rose from her spot on the air vent, her knees buckled together in protest. 

Unzipping her hoodie and yanking her leggings down, a very fidgety Lena sank into a crouched position behind the air vent. It was tall and wide enough to fully cloak her and her shadow from the surrounding buildings. She shifted her weight, body tensing up from the sudden exposure to the air.

Lena clutched the material of her leggings between her knees, resting against the vent. Her heart was hammering against her ribs as she tried to take a deep breath. “C’mon, hurry up,” Lena hissed into the darkness. The mental block of pissing outside had her insides twisted up, like a dam’s wall spider-webbing into a maze of cracks that threatened a tsunami.

She sighed, the splash of heat began to pool under her. Lena winced at the sound, blush darkening. Her stomach pains lessened as she felt relief wash over her system. The sound of keys being put into a lock made Lena's heart stop momentarily. The artist’s eyes darted around the rooftop’s surface, searching for what caused the noise.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Lena’s legs shake as her attempts to stop her emptying bladder were futile. The rooftop access door groaned as it opened, and an inky, curvaceous shadow sprawled across the cement. Lena managed to control her stream to a near-silent drip. “Tsk. Such garish colors.” Lena’s eyes rolled at the unprompted criticism. A spray paint can rolled around the corner, the valve torn clean off. 

As Lena had managed to get her stream to pause, she leaned into the vent, shoulders going slack as she exhaled. “Please go away, please go away,” Pleading whispers fell off of Lena’s lips as the shadow grew longer on the cement. A flashlight made itself known with the crisp, plastic snap of its switch. Lena’s heart slammed into her ribs as the sound of high heels came closer. 

The artist swallowed roughly, noticing one of the laces on her sneakers were dipping into the puddle under her. She held her breath as she took the wet shoelace between her fingertips and tucked it under her heel. She’d have to worry about it later. Her bladder twinged in protest as her center of gravity shifted. Lena let out a bit more, nearly unable to control her release. 

Lena's eyes widened in horror as the tip of a boot appeared mere inches away from her position behind the vent. She believed she was going to die on the spot of embarrassment.

“You are trespassing on Lacroix Co. Property!” 


End file.
